“A crawl space,” I tell him, surprised he doesn’t know.
He laughs. “I know what a crawl space is, Ciri.” He fumbles for his phone, turning on the flashlight. “I meant, what isthat?”
Whoa, what the heck?
Reaching inside, I stick my arm all the way to the back, grabbing a binder hidden flat against the wall. It blends in almost completely.
I pull it out, opening the cover as Dean shines the flashlight for us to see what’s inside.
“No way,” Asher gasps, leaning closer. “Holy shit.”
“My sweet Cirella,” Dean starts to read the handwritten note taped on the inside cover as the back of my eyes begin to burn, “I leave you everything, my little Ciri. You will be okay. Adrianna has assured me of that. She will be there to help you heal onceI’m gone, to lift you up and shape you into the most wonderful young woman.”
My tears fall as he continues to read, “I’m sorry I won’t be able to stay much longer. I’ve fought as long as I could. Being your dad is the greatest accomplishment I’ve ever had and the most fulfilling role I’ve ever been blessed with. I love you more than anything in this world. Forevermore, your dad, Patrick Chamberlain.”
My vision is blurry, clouded with emotion. But I blink it away, looking at the next page with the big, bolded words at the top—Last Will and Testament of Patrick Chamberlain.
It was right here, buried in our secret spot, all these years. If I had just looked inside, searched deeper, I would’ve found it. I could’ve freed myself from Adrianna long before now.
But …
If I had, I never would’ve become a maid at the Kensington house. I never would’ve been forced to lie about my identity and sneak into the masquerade engagement party. I never would’ve met and gotten the honor to love and be loved by Dean and Asher.
His note was right. Adrianna did shape me into the young woman I am today. Without taking the exact steps I did that led me to today, who knows what would be different?
I like to think everything happens for a reason. If living under her torment was the only way to get to where I am today, I’d do it ten times over. Every single time.
“We’ll get this to our lawyers ASAP,” Dean mutters, the businessman side of him emerging. “They’ll sort everything out.”
Nodding, I shut the binder and hand it to him. “Thank you.” My voice is barely audible.
He brushes his thumb over my cheek, wiping away tears. “You don’t have to thank me or anyone. It’s what should have been done long ago.”
“Maybe it wasn’t supposed to happen until now,” I counter, feeling optimistic that it will all work out as it should.
Asher kisses the back of my head. “You’re too kind, baby. But that’s what you have us for.”
I want to spend hours here, cleaning, tidying, and putting this place back together. And I will, alone, but right now, I want to go home—a word I never expected to mean the Kensington mansion.
I should probably move back into my parents’ house. That’s what I’ve wanted the whole time. But as we stroll out of my old bedroom, I suddenly realize that this doesn’t feel like my home anymore, but a piece of my past.
My home is wherever Dean and Asher are, whether that’s in their house, in a hockey rink, or a town a thousand miles away that we move to when they elevate into the professional league. I want to be where they are, wherever that may take me.
As I walk over the broken glass toward the front door, an idea comes to mind of what to do with this beautiful house. But I need to figure a couple of things out before I can execute it.
“Can you guys help me with something?” I ask as we walk outside and I lock the door.
“Name it,” Asher states without thought.
I tell them my plan, one quickly flushed out during the stroll from my old bedroom to here. But if we can do it right, it’ll be perfect, not only for me, but for Myra and Jules too.
They agree immediately, and I didn’t expect anything less.
“Since you rode here with Ash, does that mean it’s my turn?” Dean playfully pouts as Asher hands me my helmet.
“I suppose.” I grin, sliding my helmet on and doing the strap myself.
Dean bites his lip, throwing his leg over his bike. “Hop on, baby. We’re going home.”
